Disclaimer: I, by no means, own PotC. If I did, I wouldn't be writing
stories... I'd be writing a script.
Note: I apologize for grammatical and spelling errors. I might be able to type fast... but that says nothing for my proofreading abilities.
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Chapter 1 - The Pros and Cons of Breathing
No one could really explain why she constantly escaped. The only place she had to go was right back into the hands of the executioner, but somehow she seemed to be able to outrun them just long enough to gain herself another day, or maybe a week, of life. No one really knew how she escaped either, because the cell was always closed and locked with no prisoner inside. Something was definitely fishy about the little orphan girl. The whole of Port Royal hated her, perhaps because they knew nothing about her. She seemed to be completely obsessed with being solitary, for when she wasn't imprisoned, she could always be found sitting on the battlements of the for, or sitting on the dock, staring into the horizon. She never spoke in her own defense, and rarely spoke otherwise. No one knew her real name; they all just called her a rat.
"She'll be around here somewhere," shouted one of the guards. "She never really did learn how to hide properly. Search the fort!"
Now they were looking for her again. But they didn't realize that she hadn't really run too far away. She was standing on the streets, waiting for them to find her again, but they never really learned that she was getting tired of running. She was getting bored of the routine captures... it was time for a little excitement. If all if earned her was a trip straight to the gallows, se was ready for her fate. After all, there was no adventure left in her life but death itself.
There was no more fun.
It was boring to escape the same way she always did, and it was boring to run away and hide. It was definitely boring to be caught again and have the process repeat itself endlessly. So this time, she decided it should be a little different. She decided she would fight. She stared down on the street from the roof on the blacksmith's shop, waiting for the soldiers to all pass. Quietly and slowly, almost mechanically, she slipped out of their sight and straight through the front door of the shop. She hoped that no one would be waiting for her on the other side of the door. Old Mr. Brown was a hopeless drunk, so he wouldn't be awake long enough during the day to see her come in. But not Will. Will was always working, and she hoped that the silence that greeted her as she entered wasn't the silence of an ambush.
Her hears were confirmed at once by the flat of a sword coming down on her hand as she tried to take one in her own. She turned her head slowly toward the source of the action, and saw Will, glaring down at her from beside the furnace.
"You, girl, what are you doing in here?" Will spat, bringing the blade to a steady position next to her face. She didn't answer, fearing that speaking would throw off the balance of his sword. "How do you keep getting out of those cells? Well? His impatience was growing, but the expression on his face seemed slightly amused. Still, she couldn't stay silent for much longer.
"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies," she replied as she started slowly backing away from the tip of the sword that rested inches from her face. Surprisingly, Will lowered it and stared blankly at her.
"No one knows your name, or where you came from. And they are all baffled at how you get out of the cells on a regular basis." The girl raised an eyebrow and stared at him. Will looked as though his mind was battling with itself. He came to a decision and added, "Tell me, and I shall let you go."
"Why would you let me go?" she barked. Years of being chased, taunted, and jeered at had taught her not to trust a bargain with such low stakes. "There must be a catch." She glanced around nervously, looking for a way to run out. It was only when Will set his sword aside that she calmed down.
"I'm not the best person for capturing criminals." Seeing the odd expression on her face, he added helpfully, "My dad was a pirate. And I've engaged in a little healthy pirating myself."
The first time that anyone had ever seen a shred of hope in her eyes was at that very moment. She felt like she should definitely stick around. She envied pirates... she wished she could call herself one.
"A pirate?" she questioned, not believing her ears. "I've always wanted to meet a pirate."
"Well, now you have. Now tell me who you are." He grinned as she sighed and thought of the best way to describe herself.
"I'm an orphan," she said softly. "I don't have a name, on account of I don't know it." She took this time to fiddle with a cloth tied around her wrist. "I don't even know that much about myself, to tell you the truth. All that I know is that everyone seems to have a problem with me." Will looked a bit disappointed at this response, but he quickly regained his composure.
"So you don't have a name?" She just stood there and shook her head.
"From what I hear," she stated, a disgusted look on her face, "everyone just calls me Rat. So I guess that's the only identity I have."
Suddenly there was a loud bang on the door, and angry voices could be heard from outside. The girl reacted very quickly, sneaking into a dark corner and hiding behind a barrel of swords. She took one out for herself, just in case the worst should happen. Will looked over into the corner where she had concealed herself, and he immediately began to hammer a piece of hot steel from the furnace.
"Mr. Turner, have you seen that girl around here? She seems to have found a new place to hide." Commodore Norrington had just entered the shop, and Will glanced at him in innocent surprise.
"No, not at all. I didn't know she had gotten away again. Shall I go and fix the cell?" Will didn't dare look into the corner. He turned back to his work as the Commodore carefully surveyed the building.
"No, she seemed to escaped right under our noses, and the cell was locked tight when we went to check. She seems to have found a way to get out without breaking anything. She's very clever, just not the most wonderful child in the world." He took one last look around before giving up, and then moved toward the door. "Perhaps she has finally decided to leave? Or maybe, with our luck, she's following us around. Wherever she is, it'll be straight to the gallows as soon as we find her. She's a disgrace to the town. Good day, Mr. Turner." Will nodded as the Commodore shut the door, and continued his hammering. It would seem that he himself had forgotten that there was a fugitive hidden in the corner.
"Put the sword back, please," he said so suddenly that it made her jump. She came out from behind the barrel, placing the weapon back in it.
"Again, you've spared my life. Why?" she asked. He continued to pound on the piece of steel which was becoming an ax. She glanced back at the barrel of swords, longing to sneak one away. He broke the silence, noticing her stare and the look of admiration for his creations.
"Because you're only a child. And you don't deserve to die." He stood and walked over to the barrel, rummaged around in it for a moment, and pulled a particularly well-crafted blade. He held out the handle to her, and she stared at it, shocked.
"Take it," he urged. She grasped it gingerly, grinning broadly and eventually gripping it tightly. This was the first time she felt she could trust someone. The first time she didn't have to suck in her gut to keep from showing her flaws. The first time she thought she'd done something right. "I don't know that it'll do you much good if you get captured again, though," he said, interrupting her momentary bliss.
"It's not my choice to get caught, you know," she snapped, rather offended. Did he think that she actually liked getting caught?
"Don't be so defensive," he replied, not at all shaken from her harsh response. He looked at her, waiting for another verbal attack, but it didn't come.
"I don't have anywhere to go when I escape," she admitted quietly, making it a point to look down at her feet. "So it's taken the thrill out of everything. I don't know why I keep leaving... death is the only thing left in my life. There's nothing else." Will stepped up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. She jumped and looked up at him.
"You are not useless, you are not a rat." He shook her slightly with every word. She stared at him, utterly confused. "You're going to stay here until we can get you out of here. You will not go back to prison, and you will not be hung." He led her to a room in the back, obviously where he slept. "They'll be back soon, because they don't trust me as much as I'd like them to. Don't say anything unless I talk to you, go it?"
"I still don't understand why you're doing this," she said as he began to close the door. He just paused and stared at her for a moment, and then continued on his way, shutting the door behind him. She shook her head and smiled, hanging on the first instance of someone helping her out. Her first acquaintance that didn't want her hung.
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There's the first chapter, I hope you liked it. Please review if you get the chance... I appreciate any kind of feedback.
Note: I apologize for grammatical and spelling errors. I might be able to type fast... but that says nothing for my proofreading abilities.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 1 - The Pros and Cons of Breathing
No one could really explain why she constantly escaped. The only place she had to go was right back into the hands of the executioner, but somehow she seemed to be able to outrun them just long enough to gain herself another day, or maybe a week, of life. No one really knew how she escaped either, because the cell was always closed and locked with no prisoner inside. Something was definitely fishy about the little orphan girl. The whole of Port Royal hated her, perhaps because they knew nothing about her. She seemed to be completely obsessed with being solitary, for when she wasn't imprisoned, she could always be found sitting on the battlements of the for, or sitting on the dock, staring into the horizon. She never spoke in her own defense, and rarely spoke otherwise. No one knew her real name; they all just called her a rat.
"She'll be around here somewhere," shouted one of the guards. "She never really did learn how to hide properly. Search the fort!"
Now they were looking for her again. But they didn't realize that she hadn't really run too far away. She was standing on the streets, waiting for them to find her again, but they never really learned that she was getting tired of running. She was getting bored of the routine captures... it was time for a little excitement. If all if earned her was a trip straight to the gallows, se was ready for her fate. After all, there was no adventure left in her life but death itself.
There was no more fun.
It was boring to escape the same way she always did, and it was boring to run away and hide. It was definitely boring to be caught again and have the process repeat itself endlessly. So this time, she decided it should be a little different. She decided she would fight. She stared down on the street from the roof on the blacksmith's shop, waiting for the soldiers to all pass. Quietly and slowly, almost mechanically, she slipped out of their sight and straight through the front door of the shop. She hoped that no one would be waiting for her on the other side of the door. Old Mr. Brown was a hopeless drunk, so he wouldn't be awake long enough during the day to see her come in. But not Will. Will was always working, and she hoped that the silence that greeted her as she entered wasn't the silence of an ambush.
Her hears were confirmed at once by the flat of a sword coming down on her hand as she tried to take one in her own. She turned her head slowly toward the source of the action, and saw Will, glaring down at her from beside the furnace.
"You, girl, what are you doing in here?" Will spat, bringing the blade to a steady position next to her face. She didn't answer, fearing that speaking would throw off the balance of his sword. "How do you keep getting out of those cells? Well? His impatience was growing, but the expression on his face seemed slightly amused. Still, she couldn't stay silent for much longer.
"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies," she replied as she started slowly backing away from the tip of the sword that rested inches from her face. Surprisingly, Will lowered it and stared blankly at her.
"No one knows your name, or where you came from. And they are all baffled at how you get out of the cells on a regular basis." The girl raised an eyebrow and stared at him. Will looked as though his mind was battling with itself. He came to a decision and added, "Tell me, and I shall let you go."
"Why would you let me go?" she barked. Years of being chased, taunted, and jeered at had taught her not to trust a bargain with such low stakes. "There must be a catch." She glanced around nervously, looking for a way to run out. It was only when Will set his sword aside that she calmed down.
"I'm not the best person for capturing criminals." Seeing the odd expression on her face, he added helpfully, "My dad was a pirate. And I've engaged in a little healthy pirating myself."
The first time that anyone had ever seen a shred of hope in her eyes was at that very moment. She felt like she should definitely stick around. She envied pirates... she wished she could call herself one.
"A pirate?" she questioned, not believing her ears. "I've always wanted to meet a pirate."
"Well, now you have. Now tell me who you are." He grinned as she sighed and thought of the best way to describe herself.
"I'm an orphan," she said softly. "I don't have a name, on account of I don't know it." She took this time to fiddle with a cloth tied around her wrist. "I don't even know that much about myself, to tell you the truth. All that I know is that everyone seems to have a problem with me." Will looked a bit disappointed at this response, but he quickly regained his composure.
"So you don't have a name?" She just stood there and shook her head.
"From what I hear," she stated, a disgusted look on her face, "everyone just calls me Rat. So I guess that's the only identity I have."
Suddenly there was a loud bang on the door, and angry voices could be heard from outside. The girl reacted very quickly, sneaking into a dark corner and hiding behind a barrel of swords. She took one out for herself, just in case the worst should happen. Will looked over into the corner where she had concealed herself, and he immediately began to hammer a piece of hot steel from the furnace.
"Mr. Turner, have you seen that girl around here? She seems to have found a new place to hide." Commodore Norrington had just entered the shop, and Will glanced at him in innocent surprise.
"No, not at all. I didn't know she had gotten away again. Shall I go and fix the cell?" Will didn't dare look into the corner. He turned back to his work as the Commodore carefully surveyed the building.
"No, she seemed to escaped right under our noses, and the cell was locked tight when we went to check. She seems to have found a way to get out without breaking anything. She's very clever, just not the most wonderful child in the world." He took one last look around before giving up, and then moved toward the door. "Perhaps she has finally decided to leave? Or maybe, with our luck, she's following us around. Wherever she is, it'll be straight to the gallows as soon as we find her. She's a disgrace to the town. Good day, Mr. Turner." Will nodded as the Commodore shut the door, and continued his hammering. It would seem that he himself had forgotten that there was a fugitive hidden in the corner.
"Put the sword back, please," he said so suddenly that it made her jump. She came out from behind the barrel, placing the weapon back in it.
"Again, you've spared my life. Why?" she asked. He continued to pound on the piece of steel which was becoming an ax. She glanced back at the barrel of swords, longing to sneak one away. He broke the silence, noticing her stare and the look of admiration for his creations.
"Because you're only a child. And you don't deserve to die." He stood and walked over to the barrel, rummaged around in it for a moment, and pulled a particularly well-crafted blade. He held out the handle to her, and she stared at it, shocked.
"Take it," he urged. She grasped it gingerly, grinning broadly and eventually gripping it tightly. This was the first time she felt she could trust someone. The first time she didn't have to suck in her gut to keep from showing her flaws. The first time she thought she'd done something right. "I don't know that it'll do you much good if you get captured again, though," he said, interrupting her momentary bliss.
"It's not my choice to get caught, you know," she snapped, rather offended. Did he think that she actually liked getting caught?
"Don't be so defensive," he replied, not at all shaken from her harsh response. He looked at her, waiting for another verbal attack, but it didn't come.
"I don't have anywhere to go when I escape," she admitted quietly, making it a point to look down at her feet. "So it's taken the thrill out of everything. I don't know why I keep leaving... death is the only thing left in my life. There's nothing else." Will stepped up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. She jumped and looked up at him.
"You are not useless, you are not a rat." He shook her slightly with every word. She stared at him, utterly confused. "You're going to stay here until we can get you out of here. You will not go back to prison, and you will not be hung." He led her to a room in the back, obviously where he slept. "They'll be back soon, because they don't trust me as much as I'd like them to. Don't say anything unless I talk to you, go it?"
"I still don't understand why you're doing this," she said as he began to close the door. He just paused and stared at her for a moment, and then continued on his way, shutting the door behind him. She shook her head and smiled, hanging on the first instance of someone helping her out. Her first acquaintance that didn't want her hung.
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There's the first chapter, I hope you liked it. Please review if you get the chance... I appreciate any kind of feedback.